


Phoenix Born

by fr0stcricket7



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:54:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29846649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fr0stcricket7/pseuds/fr0stcricket7
Summary: Harry Potter is not the only tale worth telling at Hogwarts.Arabella James is a Hogwarts student battling a dark secret- one that manifests in terrible episodes made of fire. Ever since she could remember, her magic hasn't worked like the rest of the wizards she knew, and it's getting harder and harder to hide, especially from her meddling nemesis, Draco Malfoy, who only seems to grow crueler.Now, with the arrival of the tyrannical Professor Umbridge and the rise of the Dark lord, AJ has been invited to join the rebellious Dumbeldore's Army, and has been thrust into the ultimate battle against evil.Can AJ face the horrors of her past before they consume her?-Disclaimer: I'm just writing this for fun! This is the first time i've written something like this, and I'm just writing scenes and chapters as I want. Expect some minor inconsistencies and just deal with them. Thanks!-
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/OC, George Weasely/OC, OC/OC





	1. The Hogwarts Express

I savoured the bustle of King’s Cross Station, watching people haul their various carts and trunks and cages onto the train.  
It’s become a habit of mine, to show up early and watch people board for an hour or so before I finally drag myself onto the train. It lets me come up with excuses to tell people when they ask how my summer was.  
For each person I see, I wonder about their lives. Who drove them here? What did they eat for breakfast? Did they choose the color of socks they’re wearing or did they just grab what’s clean? Who do they love? When’s their birthday?  
Caught up in my thoughts- fabricating a story about a small dark haired girl with a speckled toad- I barely saw the mop of ginger heading my way before it tackled me off the bench.  
“I’ve missed you so much!” Robin squealed, her voice reaching decibels only audible to dogs and muffled by our tangle of limbs.  
“Hello, love,” I laughed, slowly detaching myself, though still on the floor. Pulling back, Robin’s smile was positively radiant.  
“You must tell me everything about your summer! I know you left some out of your letters,”  
The train whistled.  
“We should probably get on the train first, Robin.”  
“Oh, right! Yes! Let’s!” Popping up from the station’s floor, she grabbed my hand, barely giving me time to grab my trunk, and pulled me onto the train.  
Her heels thumped along the hallways, her freckled nose scrunched in concentration as she searched for our compartment.  
Ever since first year, Robin and I had always returned to our compartment. It was the first stage of us really returning to Hogwarts.  
She let out another inhumane squeal as we arrived, but stopped short when she opened it to find two first-years giggling inside. They froze, immediately falling silent.  
Robin stepped aside, letting me lean into the doorway. Crossing my arms as I did so, I smiled warmly at the two pre-teens.  
“Get out. Now.” My words flowed like warm honey, propelling them swiftly out of sight.  
“I hate doing that. Shooing the first years.” She sighed.  
“That’s why I do it, not you.”  
“I suppose so,” She chewed on a stray piece of her hair, still looking uneasy. I changed the subject quickly.  
“Any sign of Beau or Paris?”  
“Not yet,” She replied, slumping back into her seat and tossing her clunky shoes up onto my lap. Today, she was wearing white knee-highs and her favorite pair of platform mary janes.  
“Though I wouldn’t be surprised if Beau overslept and missed the train again.” I chuckled at the memory of Beau arriving disheveled and incredibly grumpy to the feast, practically mute from irritation.  
Before I had a chance to reply, a soft knock sounded from the door.  
“Anything from the trolley dears?” Robin sprang from her relaxed position, eyes glittering.  
“Two chocolate frogs, please!” She had exchanged the money before I could protest, ignoring my silent reprimand.  
Once the door was closed, I accepted the chocolate.  
“You don’t have to do that, you know. I can manage.” She huffed.  
“Well I know that, you arse. I’m just making sure you treat yourself! It’s not healthy to always be brooding.” She pointed to the space between my eyebrows. “Gives you wrinkles.”  
I resisted the urge to scoff. Like I was the one who needed reminders to treat myself lately. The usual twinkle in Robin’s eye was becoming less and less frequent. I couldn’t blame her.  
I bat her hand away, attempting to unravel the dense knot of unpleasantness that had made itself a home in my stomach from the image of Robin paying for me.  
“I have plenty of fun, Hollis. In fact, who has racked up the most detention nights here? Oh right, me.” She licked chocolate from her fingers, rolling her eyes in response.  
“Yeah, yeah. You’re a badass. We know,” She mused.  
“In fact,” I continued. “I don’t think Ms. Prefect has ever gotten a detention.” Robin flicked my nose.  
“Speaking of Prefects, remind me to change in a few minutes. We have to be in robes for the prefect meeting.”  
Robin plopped her feet onto my lap once more, closing her eyes as the train began to whistle once again. I glanced at my watch to confirm.  
“We should leave in five.” I said, but she sighed.  
“Can we just stay like this for a bit?” I smiled, leaning my head back against the seat, watching the train slowly pull out of the station.  
“Just for a bit.”


	2. Returning Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AJ and Robin return to the castle, but find trouble at the welcoming feast.

No matter how many times I’d seen it, the castle always took my breath away.   
“Home,” I sighed, to no one in particular.   
Something cold and wet fell into my lap.   
“You’re a freak for carrying that around, you know.” Robin eyed the bag of raw meat with distaste.   
“The thestrals don’t get nearly enough attention, Robin. They like the occasional snack too.” She waved her hands dismissively.   
“I know, I know. Doesn’t change the fact that carrying around a bag of minced meat makes you look psychotic.”   
“It’s their favorite.”   
“It’s still in poor taste!”   
Robin couldn’t actually see the thestrals, but it was common knowledge they pulled us to the castle. I’d always been able to see them, and had made it my mission to appreciate them. They had an undeserved stigma that I was determined to break.   
Finally, the carriage jolted to a stop, nearly throwing us out. Gathering our trunks, we started the trek to the school, only stopping to feed each of the carriages’ thestrals once their passengers had vacated.   
“Still no Beau or Paris?” Since she was several inches taller than me, Robin was tasked with scanning the crowds for our friends- but shook her head.   
“They must’ve already gotten to the great hall.” I frowned.   
“That’s not like Paris. They’re usually with us by now.” Robin pointed back to the crease between my eyebrows.   
“Your face is going to get stuck like that one of these days, AJ.”   
“It’s just concerning.” Robin smiled.   
“They’re fine, love.” I blew out a breath. She yanked my hand, practically pulling me off my feet as she started running up the path. “Come on! I want to get to the castle before all the pie is gone and my hair is grey.”   
I carefully avoided dragging my robes through puddles, scrunching the fabric in my hands so mud didn't gather on the hems. You could always magic the dirt away, but clothes always felt better hand washed, in my opinion.   
By the time we reached the castle doors, both Robin and I were lightheaded with excitement, goofy grins plastered on our faces at the prospect of truly being back home. We bustled through the hordes of students, giggling as our spirits rose.   
Finally, we came to the great hall.   
We had missed the sorting, but seeing the house colors, the floating candles, the professors at the head table- It felt like settling into myself after a long summer of wandering.   
Robin kissed my cheek, giving me a radiant smile before letting go of my hand and skipping over to the table decked in yellow and black, while I found my way to the one in silver and green. Robin was a hufflepuff, and a proud one at that. She was actively trying to end the stigma that hufflepuffs were all soft-spoken and spineless creatures.   
That’s why we became friends in the first place. While she was trying to combat the submissive nature of hufflepuffs, I was trying to combat the bigotry of Slytherins. She saw me strike Darren Blackclove across the face with my charms book during first year after he called me a mudblood, and after that, we’ve been nearly inseparable.   
I waved to her as I sat down, signaling that I’d see her after the feast. She gave me a thumbs up in return, already greeting several other yellow-robed students.   
“Hey, AJ!” My name floated above the chatter, and a green splatter of hair shoved it’s way through the crowd to my side.   
“Paris!” I threw my hair around their neck, savoring the feel of having another safe person around. “Where the hell were you? We didn’t see you on the train or the carriages.” They pulled away, and seeing their smile made another piece of myself slide back into place.   
“Beau and I just grabbed the first compartment we could, by the time everyone had settled we knew you two would be in the prefects meeting, so we just stayed put.” I blew out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.   
“That makes perfect sense.” Paris nodded to their plate.   
“I saved you a piece of french silk pie. I know it always goes fast.” They slid the plate in front of me, winking.   
“Oh, you are an angel, babe. I think I see a halo atop that green head of yours.” Paris laughed, smiling softly.   
A large commotion sounded from the other end of the slytherin table. I heard Paris scoff before I even located the source of it.   
I rolled my eyes. I should’ve known.   
Malfoy and his gang of bigots were booing newly-sorted gryffindors, laughing and taunting with their usual lack of class.   
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Can’t they lay off for one day?” I started to get up, but Paris grabbed my wrist, holding me in place.   
“Please, AJ. Ignore them for once.” I patted the hand they had on my arm, but wiggled out of it.   
“They’ve had a whole summer without me intervening. I think they deserve a reminder of their place.” Ignoring the pained expression on Paris’ face, I made my way down the table, pulling out my wand as a last resort.   
“Hey, daddy issues!” He either didn’t hear me, or was ignoring me- knowing Draco, it was probably the latter. So, I snatched an apple off the table and sent it careening into his skull.   
“Bloody hell!” Whipping his head around, his eyes narrowed as he saw me.   
“James.” His mouth curled into a snarl as I smiled and gave him a little wave. “What the fuck do you want?” The smile stayed on my face as I joined him, forgoing the bench and sitting my happy ass right on the table top.   
“You just can’t help yourself, can you, Malfoy? You just have to begin campaigning for the biggest brat the moment you step foot in the castle.” His sneer was practically dripping venom.   
“I see summer did nothing to discourage your god-awful savior complex. Are you sure you’re not in gryffindor? Your IQ would fit right in with those lot.”   
“Ooh, good one, ass wipe. Always so clever.” I turned my attention to the first year gryffindor they had targeted. It looked like they had spelled her shoes into sticking to the floor, so she couldn’t move. With a start, I realized it was the same dark haired girl I saw earlier on the train, with the toad.   
I quickly found Paris’ eyes, nodding to the girl and hoping they would put the pieces together. After a few seconds, Paris’ eyes lit up in understanding and they quickly muttered the counterspell for the sticking charm. Finally freed, the girl scrambled back to her table without a word. Content with sending a hex his way after the feast, I started to leave, but Draco was already on his feet, blocking my path.   
It was times like these that I wish I was just a few inches taller, I barely came up to his chin. He towered over me quite obviously, and it seriously impacted my ability to look down my nose at him. I held his gaze, my eyes alight and my heart racing in preparation for a fight- but his eyes were cool, icy in a way that would’ve made a lesser opponent seriously reconsider their actions.   
“You can try to be a badass as much as you want, Malfoy. I know when push comes to shove, you’re the littlest bitch out there.” I leaned in farther, bringing a smirk to my lips. “You can’t fool me.” I whispered, patting the top of his head like a dog.  
A strong hand wrapped around my other arm.   
Paris.   
“Come on,” They murmured through their teeth, dragging me back to my seat. “Finish this when there isn't the entire staff watching.”  
I hadn’t realized the entire hall had begun to fall silent, the air hanging with tension as the students watched us, expectant for a fight and the professors sat ready to intervene. I raised my eyebrows at Draco, raising two fingers to my eyes and turning them on him. In response, he spat at my feet. I stopped walking.   
“Did you just spit at me?” He smiled, crossing his arms.   
“Filthy blood deserves to be spit on.”   
Before I could think it through, I had curled my free hand into a fist- and sent it flying towards Malfoy’s face. It connected with a crack, sending him sprawling onto the floor, hands covering his face.   
It was a solid punch. Wizards never expected someone to go for a physical fight, proud bastards.   
“Ms. James!” Professor Mcgonagal scolded, bustling over and most likely whisking Malfoy away to the infirmary.   
“Sorry, Minnie. Had to start the year off right.” I shook out my hand, but Mcgonagal’s expression almost trampled the intense feeling of satisfaction from laying out a Malfoy stirring in my chest. Her disappointing glance always makes my stomach flip with shame. But this stare was more of a warning than a reprimand, with her head tilting slightly towards a short, stocky woman decked head to toe in pink. She was still sitting at the head table, her stubby hands laced neatly together, her beady eyes meeting mine, her expression set in an unsettling neutral smile.   
I gave her a big ol’ bloody grin and a double thumbs up, before Dumbledore appeared at my side, one hand resting on my shoulder.   
“Good evening, Headmaster! See you in your office in an hour?”  
Dumbledore said nothing, only nodded, his eyes following mine to the new professor in pink.


	3. Fuck Cryptic Warnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AJ is reprimanded for her behavior in the Great Hall.

I said my goodbyes to Robin and Paris quickly, as I was being dragged out by Mcgonagal. Beau was probably with some faceless, beautiful person in a nice little shadowed corner of the castle, and was nowhere to be found. Minnie dropped me off outside the Great Hall with a warning, as she had to get back to the sorting. Her expression promised hell to pay if I didn’t make it to Dumbledore’s office in a timely manner.   
I savoured the walk to Dumbledore’s office. Although I had been able to walk this route with my eyes closed since second year, literally, it was always such a nice tour of the castle, especially when returning in the fall.   
As I came to the winged statue that guarded his office, I took what was likely my last detention-less breath for the year.   
“Cinnamon sticks,” I announced, watching the statue grind and rotate to reveal the familiar spiral set of steps. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, writing something furiously, but stopped short as soon as I walked in. The paper disappeared with a Snap! and my curiosity peaked.   
“I assume you understand harming another student will result in detention, no matter how proficient the assault was, yes?” I grinned, flopping into one of the chairs opposite from his desk.   
“Actually, I was looking forward to my first detention, Headmaster. Going for a new record this year.” He sighed, leaning back in his seat.   
“What is this, your fourteenth reprimand for violence against Mr. Malfoy?”   
“My seventeenth, sir. My goal is at least twenty-five before I graduate.” His kind, neutral expression didn’t change. Of all the teachers who dealt with me, Dumbledore was by far the most difficult to handle. He was completely unruffleable, no matter what antics I pull.   
“Not that I condone any sort of retaliation, but there must be another skill set you can use than your fists, Ms. James.” I picked at the bandages around my knuckles, now slightly frayed.   
“We both know this is the only skill set I have, sir.”  
“That is simply untrue.” I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped my lips.   
“All due respect sir, I really don’t need the fake yoda ‘you need to believe in yourself’ speech, okay?” His gaze still held steady as we both fell silent. I knew he wouldn't get the yoda reference, but it still made me feel better.   
“Ms. James, this is not the year you can afford to fall behind.” My brows drew together.  
“What the hell does that mean?”   
“Circumstances beyond my control will make me unable to protect you this year if you do not start picking your battles.”  
“Protection? Are you kidding me?” I pushed out of my chair with a start, my chest suddenly filling with heat, a laugh involuntarily bubbling out.   
“Listen, I’ll show up to the forbidden forest friday night for my detention, alright? Other than that, you take your protection and shove it. I am perfectly capable of covering my own ass, so you can mind your own goddamn business, Headmaster.” I stormed out of the office before I could escalate any further- slamming the door behind me for emphasis.


	4. An Episode of Epic Proportions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AJ is afflicted with her first 'episode' of the year- with terrible reprecussions.

I knew I had overreacted- but I couldn’t bring myself to care. And I knew eventually, I would, maybe in the next hour or so, be so overcome with embarrassment and guilt I’d barely be able to move. But at the moment all I felt was hot, boiling anger making its way up my throat, clawing out through my nose and mouth.  
After a moment, I realized I was literally breathing smoke- steam was rising off me, making my robes stick to my skin, congregating around me in curls of grey.  
“Oh God,” I gasped, scrambling back into the wall.  
No. No no no- this couldn’t happen now. Not right now. Heat snaked around my bones, and I stuffed the sleeve of my robe between my teeth so I wouldn’t scream.  
The forest. I had to get to the forest.  
Stumbling down more flights of stairs, clinging to the railings to stay upright, the flames crept up my throat, pushing against my teeth.  
“No.” I gritted out, attempting to force them back down. I would not burn until I reached the forest- I would do no damage to Hogwarts. I scrambled through the painting of three witches dancing underneath the sky that changed according to the weather, starting down the long hallway that ended right before the forbidden forest.  
This passageway had been my faithful friend for many years.  
My hands scraped over the preexisting scorch marks, the rough stone of the walls and floor leaving angry red marks on my palms and knees as I collapsed. Practically crawling, I reached the end of the tunnel, nearly ripping the door off its hinges in my haste.  
I had to make it deep enough in the forest so I couldn’t be seen.  
I had to.  
My footprints left the grass curled and black, the trees around me shriveling and dying from the heat. When I exhaled, flames curled from my nose, illuminating the pitch black of the forest around me. I ran until I collapsed, finally letting myself scream as fire burst from my mouth, my hands, my hair.  
It could’ve been seconds, it could’ve been days by the time the fire started to die, and my consciousness returned to my body. Sometimes episodes lasted hours- others, almost an entire day. I couldn’t tell the difference. I have no memory of the time I lose.  
My skin was torched- I had screamed myself hoarse, my robes hung in tatters, my hair was singed, and I had long, jagged gashes along my legs and arms. That was a new development.  
“Holy shit,” I breathed. I realized I must’ve tried to dig the flames out with my own nails. My fingers were red-tipped with my own blood, and several of my usually long nails were broken.  
“Hello?” Boots crunched in the distance, a strong voice ringing into the clearing I had fallen into. Stuffing what was left of my robes into my mouth, I forced myself to scramble away from the now torched clearing as quietly as I could. The robes were a good idea- I nearly cried out as I used my pulverized muscles to pull myself into one of the only trees that I hadn’t destroyed.  
I watched as a white blonde head poked out between the branches of several now dead trees.  
Motherfucker.  
What the hell was Draco Malfoy doing out in the forbidden forest in the middle of the night?  
“I know someone’s out here,” His wand was raised, the light emanating from it dancing across his strong features. Madam Pomfrey had healed him then, as his face bore no evidence of the shiner I administered earlier that evening. Or had been longer than that? Was it even the same day?  
I shook my head, watching him silently as he took in the destruction I had left behind.  
“Lumos Maxima,” He whispered, his eyes widening as the full scope of the clearing came into view. Dozens of trees had been burned to crisps, now nothing but steaming stumps, and small fires crackled out on the forest floor, singing the thick layer of greens across it.  
“What the bloody hell happened here?”  
I didn’t know how much longer I could stay up there. I was crouched low in one of the branches, biting different fingers to keep myself conscious, and it was getting more and more difficult.  
Draco circled the clearing, dousing the miscellaneous small fires still sparking, craning his neck around to try and determine the culprit.  
What do I do What do I do?  
Make him leave Make him leave!  
I tried to think of anything that would scare him off, but my mind was still fuzzy from the attack. My thoughts fired, but they fizzled and fell flat before I could fully grasp the concept they proposed.  
Eyelids growing heavy, I gasped as I dug my jagged nails into the gashes on my thighs to force my eyes back open. It was louder than I expected, and Malfoy whipped his head in my direction at the noise.  
I stopped breathing, suddenly realizing I had no wand to protect myself with if I was discovered. It wasn’t like I was in a state where I could punch myself out of this one.  
As Malfoy slowly crept closer, I started formulating possible excuses or scenarios that would explain me, bleeding profusely and practically passed out in a tree over an extremely crispy patch of forest.  
God, only Malfoy could make this situation worse.  
Blood had pooled from my legs onto the branch, and I watched it as it dripped onto the grass below the tree, unable to stop it, cringing as it sizzled onto the ground.  
With a start, I realized it was boiling.  
That had never happened before.  
Malfoy must’ve smelled the blood, because he recoiled, his face twisting with disgust.  
He kneeled, watching the red drop eat up the leaves below it with heat.  
Right as he started to look up to my perch, a howl sounded in the distance. His head snapped up, and immediately he spelled off the light from his wand.  
With one last look around the clearing, I watched his white blonde hair dip back into the thick, dark forest.  
I blew out a long breath I didn’t realize I was holding, choking on the tears I refused to let fall down my face.  
How the fuck was I going to get back to the castle now? Paris would’ve noticed I was missing by now, but they’d assume Dumbledore had stuck me with some detention work or had taken some impromptu prefect rounds around the castle. I’d have to get back on my own.  
My legs were in shreds, my robes were in tatters, and my brain was fuzzy with the attacks still fresh in my mind- I’d have to take this one step at a time. I had left some supplies in my passageway earlier last year, but I had to make it there first.  
Now with Malfoy gone, I let myself cry out as I slowly pried myself out of the tree and back down into the blackened grass. As I set my feet down onto the ground, I realized that the rubber soles of my shoes had warped and dripped into uneven disks.  
I flipped them off my feet, stumbling from one tree to another, using the non-burnt trees to keep myself vertical. It took everything in me not to double over and empty the contents of my stomach onto the forest floor, but somehow I managed to stay both upright and moving, though extremely slowly. With every step, a strangled gasp worked its way out of my throat, no matter how hard I tried to stay silent.  
As I made my ways through the forest, I wracked my brain to remember the healing spells we had started to learn, but it was most likely useless anyways. I scolded myself for leaving my wand in my trunk before I went to meet with Dumbledore- I really didn’t want to have to explain to Paris why I disappeared for several hours and came back bleeding and burnt.  
My legs gave out, and I collapsed against the trunk of the nearest tree, biting my ruined knuckles so I wouldn’t cry. I’d been through worse, no way this would be my breaking point.  
Suddenly, a manic, boisterous laugh bubbled out of me, and once I started, I couldn't stop. I must’ve looked like a fucking psychopath- broken and bloody and laughing my ass off in the middle of the forbidden forest. My head fell into my hands, and I saw that blood even coated my hair. It’s usual blonde had been muddled with dark red, now dry and flaking off in chunks.  
Another laugh escaped me. “God, I’m fucking disgusting!” I snorted, allowing myself to rest for thirty full seconds before I started walking again.  
Somehow, I finally stumbled out of the forest, and found the latch that opened the three witches passageway back into the castle. I collapsed inside of it, searching for the box of supplies I had stashed earlier.  
Once I had found my first aid kit, I made myself relax and truly assess the damage.  
It wasn’t as bad as I initially thought- the only thing that needed stitches would be a few places in my legs, and the rest were bruises or cuts I could bind up and would heal within a couple days. I could ask one of my friends to take away the bruises faster, but then I’d have to explain why I got them or lie- both things I wanted to avoid. Luckily, my face didn’t have much damage, as long as I wore high necks and long sleeves for a week or so, no one should be able to tell.  
I started cleaning the wounds on my legs, grateful for the stinging pain so I wouldn’t nod off. The stitches weren’t terrible, once I had cleaned the blood they were a lot less severe and only required a few stitches. I’ve had to clean myself up from worse.  
After my legs were wrapped and most of my wounds were clean, I did my best to pull back my hair and hide the blood I couldn’t clean up, and rearrange the scraps that use to be my robe into something that sort-of resembled our uniform, I began the trek back to the common room, careful to avoid the professor’s usual night routes.  
As I crept towards the dungeons, I crossed several hallways as they led deeper and deeper under the castle, ducking into different broom closets or classrooms as professors made their rounds. Finally, I had made it into the dungeons, limping as fast as I could to the common room doors before-  
“James?” I stopped, debating rushing into the common room anyways and hoping whoever it was would assume they misidentified me, but I stalled for too long.  
“The hell are you doing out in the hallways at this hour? You’re not scheduled for patrol.” I didn’t want to turn around, recognizing the voice as he spoke more. How the fuck did Malfoy already get back into the castle so quickly? I had almost decided to lay into him further, but after the intensity of that attack, I needed to sleep desperately if I was going to be halfway functional for the first day of classes tomorrow.  
“Sorry to disappoint, Malfoy, but I’m really not in the mood for our usual witty banter.” Without waiting for a response, I tried the common room door again, before realizing I had no fucking idea what the new password was. Something crumpled in my chest at that realization- like my lungs were a piece of paper that had balled up and crinkled in my chest.  
I damn near started crying right then and there.  
Giving myself a count of three to shove the lump of tears down my throat, I kept my voice even as I started intently at the door.  
“What’s the new password?” I heard his expensive shoes click down the hallway as he approached me, his shit-eating grin searing into my back.  
He crossed his arms over his torso, leaning smug against the dark brick. I forced myself to avert my eyes, to not engage, to face away, hopeful he wouldn’t see the grime and gauntness of my face.  
“James. Are you asking me for a favor?” A low, horrible snarl ripped its way out of my throat.  
“I have no patience left, asshole. Just give me the new fucking password.” My voice was a rasp, and even I could tell it held no weight. I felt his eyes meet my face, and I turned my head even further away.  
“Are you.. barefoot?” Exhaustion and annoyance battled within me, the desire to throttle him equal to my body’s cries for sleep. Before I could think, I was grabbing his robe collars and slamming him against the wall, the anger and sleep deprivation combining into a horrible tantrum.  
“The fuck is the password, Malfoy?” At first he laughed, enjoying my frustration, but his face fell as he surveyed mine. I knew how I looked after attacks, like a grotesque pile of bones held together by nothing but my own rabid animosity, like I had been freeze-dried and left for dead.  
“Pomegranate vine,” He breathed, horror and disgust warring for dominance in his features. The door swung open behind us, and I rushed inside without another word, without letting myself contemplate the consequences that one interaction could cost me.  
Going as fast as my injured legs would allow, I ran up the girl’s dormitory stairs and made my way to the room Paris and I shared, my body motivated by the promise of sleep.  
As quietly as I could, I slid through our door, not even allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness before I collapsed into my bed and fell immediately into the beckons of sleep.


	5. First Day of Classes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AJ and friends make their way through their first day of fifth year.

“C’mon, you gotta get up, AJ.” I woke to Paris shaking me, sitting at the foot of my bed. They were already fully dressed, their uniform perfectly tucked and pressed as always, their hair and makeup done. Today, they had neon pink eyebrows and electric blue mascara paired with their slicked back green bun.   
“What time is it?” I rubbed my eyes, testing how sore my body was.   
“You’ve got an hour before classes. Get dressed and we can grab breakfast with everybody.” I groaned, making a mental note to set an alarm for the next morning. I liked having more time to get ready, especially after a long night.   
“Oh my god, AJ, are you bleeding?” Looking down, I realized I had bled through some of my wrappings onto the sheets.   
“Shit, yeah uh.. I must’ve started in my sleep.” Hoping to pass my pain off as annoyance, I clambered out of bed, heading straight to the cupboard to grab some new sheets.  
“AJ, we’re not witches for nothing.” Paris waved their wand and the blood disappeared.   
“Right. Thanks,” I crossed to the bathroom, intent on taking a quick, careful shower, when Paris continued.   
“Where were you last night? I tried to wait up for you, but you got back pretty late.” Smiling, I clapped them on the shoulder. “You missed a hell of a welcome back speech, you know. The new DADA professor is mental.” I scoffed. “She works for the ministry.” Paris eyes lowered, their voice dropping ever so slightly. “I looked her up. She has quite the agenda against half-breeds and muggle borns.” I laughed, but Paris’ expression was serious. “I’m not kidding, AJ. She’s gotten over a dozen ministry workers fired on the basis of their lineage alone.”   
“Sounds like I made the perfect choice, then. The later I meet her, the better. For everyone involved.” I threw my blankets over my newly-cleaned sheets, sloppily making the bed.   
They shoved me towards the bathroom with an eye roll and a small smile.   
“Go take a shower, you animal. You look like shit.”   
“There’s that Chloros charm we all love. Give me fifteen minutes.” I began to shut the bathroom door, but stopped at the last second. “Oh I forgot! Will you fix my robes?”  
They frowned. “What do you mean?” A wild smile crossed my face, and I prided myself on it’s authenticity.   
“I got into some trouble last night, they might need some minor repairs.” Paris found the pile of scraps next to my bed. Levitating them, they inspected their shredded form.   
“You know, you could at least try to learn how to fix them yourself.” They paused. “What the hell did you do?” I wiggled my eyebrows.   
“Why would I need to do it if you’ll just do it faster?” They rolled their eyes again, sighing.  
“I’ll fix them while you shower.”  
“Thank you!”   
“But only this once!” They yelled through the door, but I barely heard it. Immediately, I slumped against the door, exhausted from just that one interaction. I was going to have to get better at lying to Paris, and quickly.   
I couldn’t take a real shower because of the wounds on my legs- so I resorted to turning the water on and using damp washcloths as best I could. The pain wasn’t too bad today, the period cover would be more helpful than I expected. Passing symptoms off as cramps and moodiness would be child’s play.   
I didn’t realize how much blood had been left over- I watched as the water and shampoo turned pink as it circled down the drain. Washing it several times just to be safe, I resorted to drying my hair manually with a towel instead of magically. With all the new developments that came with the last attack, my magic could be dangerous to use- even more so than usual.  
My magic had never been normal, even since I was a baby. Most kids’ incidents started around nine or ten, when their emotions get out of hand. They’re usually innocuous spells, only every once in a while does a young witch or wizard harm someone with their magic. Different witches have different strengths, sometimes they were herbology wizzes but couldn't cast a protection charm to save their life, or they could send hexes like bullets but the minute they tried transfiguration, their magic simply didn’t conform. But most people had the basis of magic. They might not perform well in all subjects, but their magic tried.   
My magic never did. I wave my wand to clean a spill, to lift a feather, to boil water, to toss an apple, and nothing happens. There’s no pull of magic in my stomach, no scent of it in the air, no sting on the skin.   
Most teachers attributed this to the fact that I simply wasn’t a gifted witch- but it’s not that my magic isn’t there, it’s just hidden. Most people can turn their magic on like a faucet, but I have to infiltrate a heavily guarded warehouse made of concrete and steel and make my way down to the basement to then blow up a wall to access the pipes that store mine. And even then, it's not a steady, constant flow. It's a sporadic and chaotic force I have to wield when I fight my way to it.  
The only thing I can get right, however, is fire. You ask me to levitate a feather, and I couldn't move it unless you held a gun to my head. But, ask me to burn it, and it’ll be a pile of ashes before you even blink. I could summon fire as easily as I breathe ever since I could remember. It started as fun little spells, the tips of my hair burning when I was upset, or my ears lighting up when I was embarrassed. It was my favorite thing, lighting bonfires during nice weather and writing messages that went up in smoke just a second later.  
The attacks started on my eighth birthday. They started with maybe one or two a year, but escalated to one every few months, and lately, every few weeks.   
They hurt like a motherfucker, though I’ve gotten better at dealing with them. Last night had been a new breed of incident, however. None had ever gotten that bad before.   
I still hadn’t told my friends. They knew my magic was finicky, but I never explained to them why I couldn’t do basic spells like they could. It didn’t help that I barely knew why I couldn’t either, or that I just so happened to be best friends with some of the most talented witches and wizards of our age. There was no point in telling them anyways, if I could manage to get top marks for four years on sheer will alone, I could make it through a few more without getting them involved.   
By the time I finished in the bathroom, Paris was holding a perfectly pressed set of slytherin robes, exactly my size. I smiled and kissed them lightly on the cheek, balling the robes in my hands.   
“Yeah, yeah. Come on,” They sighed, grabbing their textbooks from the bed. “Robin and Beau are waiting for us at breakfast.” I quickly checked my appearance in the mirror, grimacing as I met my own steel colored eyes. They looked hard and cold as usual, but my hair hung in wet clumps around my face. I hurriedly ran a brush through it to try and give it some life. Paris huffed from the doorway, but I added a touch of mascara to my lashes and darkened my eyebrows a smidge.   
I glanced at their impatient form.  
“You know I’ll look like a maniac if I don’t fill in my eyebrows. I’m a blonde, for cauldron’s sake.” Flicking their wand once again, my hair puffed and lightened, now dry.   
“You looked like a wet rat. I won’t be seen with a rodent.” Pulling at my green and silver tie, I let it hang loose around my collar, untucking my wrinkled shirt so that about half hung down over my pleated skirt.   
“Says the one who looks like a bloody neon space cowboy,” I replied, dodging their elbow to my ribs and laughing so I didn’t grimace from the sudden movement. We left our room, and as we walked I twisted and pinned a piece from each side of my hair back to keep the rest out of my face. My injured legs struggled to keep up with Paris’ long strides while we made our way to the great hall, but it was nice being able to walk the castle at a slower pace, even at Paris’ unrelenting speed. Even before my episode, I had only been able to enjoy the route to the Headmaster's office. And after that particular trek, I was otherwise occupied when I rushed through the halls.   
By the time we reached the great hall, Robin and Beau were already seated, Robin spreading strawberry jam on toast and Beau splayed on his back, his arm thrown dramatically over his eyes. You could only see his black curly hair above his caramel colored skin- all of his features obscured by his robes.   
“What’s wrong with him now?” I asked as we sat down. Robin shrugged, prodding his arm with one of her long, red nails. He groaned and swatted her hand away, sighing loudly.  
“Don’t know. He’s been like this ever since I sat down.”   
“I am simply mourning the end of our joyous freedom! The death of our blessed summer season!” Paris scoffed, scooping eggs onto their plate.   
“Merlin's beard. He’s lamenting.” Beau sat up suddenly, his chin held high.   
“I wouldn’t expect a cretin like you to understand, Paris. Some of us like to live a life with romantic notions.” They snorted, and I met Robin’s eyes, preparing ourselves for the impending argument.   
“I would hardly call anything you do romantic, Beau. More like pathetic.” He gasped, his usually soft features sharp with outrage.   
“All of my endeavors happen to be the epitome of romance!”  
“Shagging in the broom closet is not what anyone would consider romantic, no matter how desperate they may be.”   
Robin passed me a plate full of food, her eyebrows raised, ignoring the bickering pair.   
“I can make my own breakfast, Robin.”  
“Eat everything on that plate before you leave, I order it.” I rolled my eyes, but started eating anyway. Digging into her bag, she pulled out her schedule. “Okay. What’s your guys’ day looking like?”   
I flattened out my schedule next to hers, comparing classes.   
“Oh, thank god. We have potions, DADA, and charms together.” Beau glanced over her shoulder, brandishing his schedule.   
“I have potions with you guys today, and James! You and I have herbology and transfiguration together tomorrow.”  
“Great. That means I’ll be doing your herbology homework all year.” I sighed, Beau doodling hearts on the margins of my schedule, grinning.  
“Mon héro,” He responded. Beau was french, as he loved to remind us, and was extremely fond of his lineage. His mother, a witch, was expelled from Beauxbatons after organizing several protests lobbying to change sexist and racist rules and dress codes- He only moved to Britain right before his twelfth birthday, once his father had died. This was practically common knowledge at Hogwarts, as he told anyone who’d listen.  
“Well, he’s not getting any help from me this year. If you want to pass your classes, you’ll have to work for it.” Paris sniffed, unfolding their schedule. Beau clicked his tongue.  
“None of that, sweet Paris. You’d never let me fail.” With his accent, he always pronounced Paris’ name as Pair-ee. Ignoring him completely, Paris snatched our schedules.   
“I’ll have charms and transfiguration with Robin and AJ..” They huffed. “And practically everything else with Beau.” He grinned in triumph, reclining back on the bench.   
“It’s fate, love! The universe is pulling us together.”  
“No.” Paris replied simply, folding up all of our schedules in neat squares, gathering their books. “I have to get to ancient runes early if I want to get a good seat, so I’ll see you guys in charms later.” Dumping the rest of their plate onto Beau’s with a glare, Paris started towards their first class, ignorant of the raspberry Beau blew to them in response.   
Robin glanced at my gradually disappearing plate of food, then to Beau’s reclined form.   
“We’ll leave after you’re finished, AJ. Beau, at least try to pretend you’re in uniform.” He huffed, loosening his navy and bronze tie even further in retaliation. I pushed my half-eaten plate away.   
“I’ve eaten enough, Mom. Let’s just head to potions.” Robin looked reluctant, but she started to gather up her things, kicking Beau off the bench to prompt him as well.


	6. Potions Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AJ is faced with a challenging potions lesson.

Though many slytherins tended to enjoy potions because of our incredibly biased and shit-for-brains house head, I found I had quite the talent for the subject. And, I will admit, seeing Snape’s face when I make top marks is basically the only thing that gives me serotonin anymore- especially when my potion is so good, he can’t even pull some bullshit excuse to mark me down. It’s truly an art form.   
We made it to the dungeons in good time, only having to stop a few times as Robin forced Beau and I into different pieces of our uniforms. I relented and put on my robes, though I didn’t tuck in my shirt or tighten my tie- but Beau refused to put on a tie altogether.   
“Sorry, love. A tie would ruin my disheveled elegance aesthetic,” He whined. Robin threw up her hands, her ginger ponytail flying.   
“Fine! Let Snape give you a week’s detention for all I care, you heathen!”   
“If a week of detention is what I have to pay for fashion, so be it.” Robin looked to me, her eyes pleading for support.   
“Hey, don’t look at me for help. You know where I stand on the subject.” I fist bumped Beau to prove my point. “Fuck Snape.” I added, for further emphasis.   
“Fuck Snape!” Beau repeated, though much quieter, since we had approached the potion room’s door.   
A potion was already brewing on Snape’s desk when we walked through the doorway, wispy purple smoke curling up from the cauldron and filling the room.   
“What an ambiance,” I scoffed, dropping my books onto the nearest seat, watching as Robin and Beau did the same.   
Students began filtering in, filling up the empty seats and attempting to ignore the sinister smog starting to congregate around the ceiling. I rolled my eyes as a gaggle of slytherin bigots bustled in- Draco, of course, leading them.  
Once the last seat had been taken, Snape blew into the room, slamming the door behind him.   
Purple smoke had begun to reach further down from the ceiling.   
“The potion sitting on my desk is omitting a toxic gas that will start to permanently affect your nervous system in exactly 32 minutes and 24 seconds,” A copy of our potions textbook thumped onto the desk next to him. “You will find the antidote on page 71. Brew it before you start to lose sensation in your limbs.” With that, he disappeared through the door, locking it with a heavy click.   
For a total of three seconds, the entire class was silent.   
“He can’t be serious,” Robin whispered. As I flipped to page 71, I couldn’t hide the wicked smile that crossed my face at the prospect of a good, solid challenge.   
“Let’s find out.” 

About 24 minutes later, I had almost made it through the page of delicate instructions, my blood quickening as the fog descended, developing a sickly sweet scent that made my head and vision start to blur. Luckily, I had ample experience working with a fuzzy brain. Every few minutes, I would make myself stand on one leg- the pain from the old wounds enough to ensure the antidote kept my undivided attention.   
Robin had started her own potion, but had gotten stuck on adding the right amount of selkie barbs needed to make the dry mixture a dark green, but not enough to make it steam. Beau, on the other hand, had taken one look at his textbook and collapsed on the bench. He was snoring in seconds, remarking offhandedly that he knew I could handle it.   
While I waited for my mixture of troll snot and sugar bark to boil, my eyes couldn’t help but wander to Draco. He was tending diligently to his potion, brows creased and fingers fluttering over ingredients and textbook pages. Why the hell was he pretending like he had any real stakes in this class? He could shit in his cauldron and Snape would still give him full marks for ‘creativity.’  
I scoffed, adding the snot bark mixture to the main cauldron in thirds.   
“Okay,” I exhaled. “If I got it right, in about two minutes, this should start to produce a yellow steam that will combat the effects of Snape’s.”   
“And if in two minutes, nothing happens?” I slumped back in my seat, surveying the other student’s cauldrons. Some actually could’ve worked out if we had another 20 minutes, but we were rapidly running out of time.   
“Then you should start figuring out how to get that lock off the door while you can still move your arms.” She nodded, a small squeaky noise escaping from her throat before she cleared it and fell silent.   
Suddenly- a wispy, amber smoke began to curl off the potion’s surface.  
Robin let out a triumphant laugh, bouncing on her toes as the purple fog started to recede.   
“You’re bloody brilliant!” She squealed.   
Almost immediately, Snape materialized next to my cauldron, stirring the shimmering liquid counter clockwise to observe the several layers below the surface.   
“Take all the time you need, professor, but I can save you the trouble.” I reclined further in my chair, propping my feet onto Robin’s lap. “It’ll be perfect.”   
“Be quiet,” He snapped, dropping a book onto Beau’s stomach, lurching him awake in a coughing fit. “Arrogant girl,” He snarled, but he didn’t critique the brew.   
“Clean this up.” Whirling on the rest of the class, he added. “You’re dismissed.” Then, he disappeared once again.   
Students began chattering, breaking the tense silence with the noise of their books clunking together in bags and long breaths as their adrenaline fell.   
I crossed the classroom to return different bottles and jars to their respective perches, savouring the rush of danger before it dissolved into nothing but a hollow pit in my stomach. I started to return to my seat to clean up the cauldron, but a white blonde head was hovering over my notes, comparing my scribbled calculations and comments to their own papers, and stirring the mixture further.   
“Careful!” I snatched the ladle from Malfoy’s hand, hurriedly stuffing my notes into my book. “If you over stir it, you could reverse its effects.” He didn’t seem to hear me, his eyes intently skimming the notes I couldn’t reach without climbing over him.   
“How the bloody hell did you do that?” He flicked his wand absentmindedly, his cauldron floating over and thunking next to mine. I opened my mouth, intent on telling him to piss off, but my mouth shut when I saw his potion.   
It was a light lavender hue, bubbling slightly at the edges. I reached for a small jar, pouring a few drops and watching how the potion moved. It moved quickly, rushing from one container to the other, but hissing at the contact with the glass. Nodding, I emptied the jar back into Malfoy’s mixture.   
“You weren’t actually that far off. See how it resisted the glass?” He nodded, usually light eyes dark and clear with focus. “If you had ground your bark instead of chopped it, then let it boil for a few more minutes, you could’ve pulled it off.” He was a lot closer than I led on, but the last thing I wanted was to add further to this git’s massive ego.   
As if a switch had flipped, he suddenly came to, recoiling from my desk and lifting his lips into a snarl.  
“I don’t need your help,” Malfoy crumpled the notes he still clutched, letting them fall to the floor. After a moment, I smiled, nodding my head.  
“Ah, yes. I had almost forgotten the inferiority of my birth, until you mentioned it.” I sighed, crossing my arms and leaning against the table. “Gosh, thanks for reminding me.”   
Snapping his book shut, he sent one last dirty glance my way and stormed back to his seat, packing his things and leaving in a whirlwind.   
“Wow, down in the first round Malfoy. I knew you weren’t very clever, but this is a new record!” I shouted as he made his way down the hallway. The only reaction I got was a middle finger stuck up behind his back.   
Turning back to my mess of a desk, I found it sparkling clean. It didn’t take me long to find the source of this magic, since we were the only ones left in the classroom.   
Robin and Beau stood completely still, both of their eyes wide and mouths agape, wands out from spelling my papers and potion away.   
“You just like.. tutored Draco Malfoy.”  
“I did not tutor him! He asked me one question before remembering he’s actually devoid of brain cells.” Robin turned to Beau, ignoring my comment altogether.   
“She just helped Draco Malfoy with his potion,” She repeated.  
“It was Draco, wasn’t it?” Beau prompted further. “Are we sure it wasn’t someone with a polyjuice potion and a sick sense of humor?”  
“Or maybe my own personal boggart,” Robin added. They continued to rattle off mythical alternatives while I gathered my things.  
“Just come on, both of you.” I grumbled, pushing them out into the hallway. They should be glad I had an episode last night, or else both of their eyebrows would be singed by now.


	7. Let's Commit Arson in DADA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AJ finally faces Professor Umbridge.

After potions, Robin I sent Beau off to herbology with Paris- knowing full well without them he’d never make it there on his own- while we made our way to charms. Robin was babbling about the ordeal in potions, telling anyone who would listen about how Snape could’ve killed us! Who does he think he is? Thank god AJ is a potions whiz, or we would’ve been cold in the ground! I shushed her, ready to stick a sock in her mouth if necessary, when two tall, ginger heads came bolting around the corner.   
“Fred!” I exclaimed.   
“George!” Robin followed.   
“Ladies!” They replied, sweeping us into their separate arms, swinging us around. “We’ve been looking for you ever since your tussle in the great hall- we thought congratulations were in order after that right hook. Seems you’ve been boxing over the summer, ay?” I laughed, shoving Fred’s shoulder.   
“Oh please, I was just softening him up for you two.”  
“Don’t do us any favors there, James. I think we can handle little ol’ Malfoy all by our lonesome.”   
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Robin interjected. “I do seem to recall almost every experiment you two gits come up with ends up with one or both of you in the hospital wing.” In unison, the twins threw their hands over their hearts in mock despair.   
“Ms. Hollis, how you wound us with your venomous words,” George replied. Robin flushed, swinging her bag into his chest.  
“And we’re looking forward to seeing you on the quidditch pitch, James. Our last game calls for a rematch, one that’s not rigged in your favor,” Fred winked.   
“Just because I beat your two sorry asses into the ground doesn’t mean it was rigged, you dolts.” Robin laughed, stopping as we came to the charms classroom hallway.   
“You’ll make us late for charms, wankers.”   
“We expect great things from you this year, Hollis!” George shouted, running down the opposite way.  
“And you as well, James!” Fred added. “Many o’ mischief relies on your.. particular talents!”  
“Looking forward to it, heathens!” They disappeared around the bend, a flurry of robes and boisterous laughter. I’d been friends with Fred and George since second year, after they learned I had an affinity for fire and had needed help setting off a series of magical charges in various classrooms. I was delighted to contribute. Since they were two years ahead we never had any classes together, but we found plenty of instances to stir up trouble nonetheless.  
“I was wondering when those lot would come snooping about,” Robin remarked, slinging her bag back over her shoulder.   
“Thinking a lot about the Weasley twins, aren’t you, Ms. Hollis?” I smiled. “Maybe a particular Weasley twin whose name rhymes with.. shmeorge?” Her cheeks blushed an even brighter red, her platform shoes clicking on the stone floors as she sped up her pace. My injured legs protested as I matched her pace, but I schooled my face into a teasing smile despite the pain.   
“You’ve got it bad, Hollis. Ever since the pudding incident of third year!” She smiled reluctantly, the freckles around her eyes crinkling at the memory.   
“He’s a seventh year, AJ.” I rolled my eyes.   
“Oh, please! He’s seventeen. You’re sixteen. What’s the issue if you’re two school years apart?”   
“Just.. shut up and open the door, James. We’re almost late.” We crashed into the dead silent classroom, me trying to musse her hair and her dodging me, laughing.   
The full classroom turned to us, their books already open and stares piercing. We coughed, falling silent as we took two open seats next to Paris, though I nearly cried out when I saw, yet again, Malfoy and his buffoons occupying an entire corner of the classroom.   
“Of course we have two classes in a row with Daddy Issues and his bumbling idiots,” I snarled to Robin and Paris, whispering while Flitwick welcomed the student back to their fifth year of class. Robin smiled sympathetically, but Paris shushed me fervently, both already scribbling notes in their designated charms notebook. I huffed. Sometimes I forgot they could be no fun in classes. Suddenly, I missed Beau.   
Sitting back, I kicked my feet onto the desk and crossed my arms, already tuning out Flitwick’s lecture. You didn’t really need to listen to him, he pre-wrote all of his notes and made them readily available for anyone who asked to use them, and copying them was easy enough once exam season began. And it’s not like I would have any luck performing them after an episode, anyways.   
I doodled on the parchment I stole from Robin earlier, unsure of what I was drawing until it was finished. Long, arching wings spread across the paper, a feathery tail and a curved beak, open in a war cry. Triumphant, it soared around the margins, leaving a trail of tiny monochrome flames in its wake.   
A phoenix.   
I stopped drawing once I realized what it was, an odd feeling curling in the pit of my stomach. It was like smoke, wisping around my chest before settling in a hard rock in my throat that made it difficult to breathe. I shook my head, attempting to dismiss the feeling and focus on what Flitwick was talking about and not look at that drawing.   
His words seemed to buzz together, however, creating a fuzzy length of syllables bleeding into each other. It was like he was speaking cursive aloud.   
“AJ!” Paris hissed, jolting me back to reality. They pointed to their hair under their desk, their eyes urgent. I smelled the faint scent of smoke before I realized my hair was smoldering. Patting my hair, I gave myself a count of three to extinguish it, breathing long, deep breaths as I felt the heat on the back of my head slowly dissipate. No one was sitting behind me, but I did a quick sweep of the room to see if anyone had noticed. I breathed a sigh of relief, as most kids were absorbed with their notes, until I met a set of hard, icy eyes staring right at me.   
Malfoy. His eyes flickered to my hair, then my desk, taking in both the odd drawing and the fact my hair wasn’t even a bit crispy. Hurriedly, I folded the paper in sharp lines and stuffed it in my robe pocket. For some reason, It felt like a secret I didn’t want Malfoy to know. I shook my head, almost laughing. It was just a bloody drawing, for cauldron’s sake. What did Malfoy seeing it matter?   
I met his eyes with a sneer and a middle finger. Fuck do you want, tosspot? I mouthed. He scoffed, his eyes returning to his notes. His writing was surprisingly messy, an elegant yet scribbly mixture of cursive and print.   
God. This class couldn’t end soon enough. 

“Can you believe Flitwick said we would be producing patronuses this year?” Robin squealed as we made our way out to the lake after our morning classes. “I’ve always wanted to know what mine would be! I hope it’s something fun.” She mused.   
“Of course you would consider casting a patronus charm as a bonafide personality test,” Paris laughed. “But I’ll admit, I am curious what mine would be, as well.”   
“Probably something incredibly stiff, like a grey owl.” Beau smiled. “Or something horribly mean, like a viper.” He added, flicking the tip of their nose. Paris glared.   
“And yours would be what? A peacock?” Beau grinned, considering the animal. He plopped down on the grass under our favorite tree, tucking his arms behind his head.   
“I actually quite like the sound of that.” Paris rolled their eyes, pulling out a textbook and parchment to most likely get ahead in some obscure class they were taking this semester.   
“Of course you do, you dolt.”   
“I think mine would be some sort of horse, or maybe a cute little bunny,” Robin continued, ignoring their exchange entirely. “And AJ, yours would have to be something impressive, like a dragon. Or a stallion.” I laughed at the ludicrous notion.   
“Like I’d ever find out. No way I’d ever be able to conjure a patronus.” Robin poked my arm playfully.   
“Of course you will! We’ll all help you. Right guys?” A grunt to the affirmative came from both Paris and Beau- the first already wrapped up in an essay and the other halfway asleep.   
“See?”   
“I don’t need charity, Robin.” I grumbled, but she grinned, shivering from the chilly weather. I hadn’t realized it had already begun to cool off significantly, so I shrugged off my robes and handed them over.   
“Won’t you be cold?” She asked, but I shook my head.   
“I don’t get cold, remember? Here,” I draped my Slytherin robes over her hufflepuff ones. I was wearing long sleeves and tights, so they wouldn’t see any bandages. “You’re an honorary member.” Robin grinned, dropping her head on my shoulder as we watched the lake churn and bubble, falling into comfortable silence.   
Robin seemed to be doing better this year.   
Cedric’s death had really hit her, more than the rest of the school. Sure, Hufflepuffs lost one of their own, but Robin lost an incredible friend. Losing Cedric was a wake up call to all of us, but Robin had to deal with the fear of the Dark Lord on top of the grief of losing a friend, someone who she’d known deeply and worked closely with to show people what being a hufflepuff truly meant.   
“You’re thinking about him,” She whispered. I rested my cheek on her hair, pulling her close.   
“Yeah,” I replied.  
“I swear I’ll kill that Voldemort son of a bitch myself,” She breathed, her words vicious, but her tone light, like she was discussing the lunch menu. Paris gasped.  
“Robin! You can’t-”  
“It’s just a name, Paris. Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort.” I interjected. “Start getting used to saying it.” They shook their head, training their eyes intently on their parchment.   
“We only have a few more minutes before DADA,” Robin remarked.   
“Can we just stay like this for a moment?” I whispered. She laughed, but didn’t move.   
“Just for a moment.” 

We said our goodbyes to Beau and Paris, sending Paris to potions with a warning and our previous notes, and Beau to his charms block.   
“I’ve heard the new professor is downright mental,” Robin said, as we walked to DADA. Her mouth was twisted to the side, brows knitted- an expression that would’ve been foreign on her face this time last year. Not wanting to worry her, I laughed and brushed off the idea. It’s not like the Professor would care about Robin’s blood status, she’s a pureblood, anyways.   
“Like that’s odd for a DADA professor,” I scoffed. “Last year we were taught by a death eater disguised as a mad ex-auror. Not sure how we could beat that.” Robin chewed her hair, her amber eyes concerned.   
“Yes, I suppose so.” I shook her shoulders.   
“Come on! Quidditch season doesn’t start for another week or so, so I can really rack up the detentions. This class will be fun, especially if the professor’s got a stick up her arse.”   
“Oh, I’ve bet you’ve had something brewing from the moment Paris told you we had a new teacher, haven’t you?” Smiling, I rounded the corner of our classroom corridor. She had no idea.   
“What am I if not consistent, Hollis?”   
“Incredibly infuriating,” She replied, though her face had brightened into an uneasy grin.   
We entered the classroom, blinking at the stark tone shift of the room.   
We were used to redecoration- since we’ve gone through so many different teachers- but it seemed as if the room itself had become colder, like the perfectly aligned desks and the completely dustless air leeched all warmth from the vicinity. A singular blackboard stood at the front, the only words written in perfect, white cursive. 

Professor Dolores Umbridge  
Defense Against the Dark Arts 

Even Robin shivered, despite her extra set of robes. Luckily for us however, there seemed to be no teacher in sight.   
A shoulder hit mine as it brushed past me, snarling at the contact.   
“Get your filthy blood out of my way, James. Some of us are actual wizards trying to get an education.” I stepped aside, giving him a low bow at the waist, practically touching my nose to my shoes, completely ignoring the pain it caused my wounds.   
“My apologies, your grace, if I had realized your majesty intending to walk my way, I never would have disgraced your pure blood by having a peasant like myself simply stand in a classroom. By god, I swear it’ll never happen again. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, my liege,” I sniffled, faking tears on my cheeks. Robin snorted, letting her books fall onto a nearby desk.   
“Filthy little mu-” Draco started, but I whipped out my wand and slammed his back into the wall. Pressing the dark wood into the soft spot behind his jaw, my free hand wrapped around his tie, pulling his face down toward me.   
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Malfoy.” Despite my wand at his throat and my face snarling inches away from his own cheeky grin, his eyes travelled slowly, taking my entire face in, before finally landing at my eyes. His light blue held steady under my burning glare.   
“Put that thing away, James. We both know it’s practically useless to you.” His eyes moved to the wand, his fingertips trailing over it’s dark frame. “You’re no better than a god damn squib.”   
The blood roared in my ears, and I felt the tips of my hair start to prickle with heat for the second time that day. Damn my episodes- they always made my temper worse.   
Suddenly, his eyes widened, and his hand fell from my wand, his expression shifting from smug to bewilderment.   
“Your eyes-”   
An invisible force pulled me backwards, flinging me into the seat sitting closest.   
“Good morning, class!” A violently polite voice chirped. Looking up, I saw an incredibly frog-like woman in an obnoxiously pink skirt and matching blazer standing near a practically spotless desk. Her dark, beady eyes were already trained on me.  
“I’ve introduced myself at the feast, but I realize not all of us attended.” I smiled at that bit. “I’m Professor Dolores Umbridge, and I’m simply delighted to see all of your beautiful faces this morning.” Adopting a horrifyingly innocent smile, she crossed her pudgy hands over one another, placing them firmly in her lap. “You all have been woefully neglected in your education. Luckily, I am here to rectify your predicament!” A laugh tinkled out of her small frame like a wind chime through a wood chipper.   
“Ms. James,” Her kitten heels clicked on the floor as she approached me, though she was so short she barely met my eye level. “Just where would your robes be this afternoon?” I patted my arms, my torso, my chest, clicking my tongue on my teeth as I did so.   
“Damn,” I said. “I seem to not be wearing any. You know, I could’ve sworn-”  
“No need to elaborate.” She cut me off, her smile somehow growing more threatening as the seconds went on.   
She was trying to intimidate me.   
I couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped past my lips even if I wanted to. I looked the woman up and down, sitting back in my seat and crossing my arm over my chest. I opened my mouth to reply, but changed tactics as soon as I started speaking.  
“Forgive me, ma’am. It won’t happen again.” I added a charming smile at the end, just to finish it off. Still looking at me, Professor Umbridge pointed her wand at Robin.   
“I assume those are your robes? I was under the impression Ms. Hollis was a Hufflepuff prefect, not a Slytherin.” Robin hurriedly shook off my robes, her shoes clicking in the dead silent classroom as she dropped them on my desk, mumbling an apology to the professor before scrambling back to her seat. I let them sit there, cooly staring Umbridge down as I did so.   
“Well?” She prompted.   
“Oh, I’m sorry. Was I meant to put them on?” Her smile sharpened.   
“Yes, I believe that was implied, Ms. James.” I began to shrug the robes over my white shirt and vest, shaking my head humbly.  
“My apologies, madam.” I placed my hand over my heart, hanging my head in shame. “Sometimes it’s just so hard for us muggle borns to understand simple instructions.”   
I heard Robin’s head thump onto her desk from beside me.   
“Cauldron save us.” She mumbled.   
Umbridge’s face turned unbelievably red, her nostrils flaring.   
“That’s quite enough from you today, Ms. James.” She blubbered, turning her back and hurrying to the front of the classroom. “A detention ought to serve you well!”   
“Whatever punishment you deem fit, professor. After all, I am bound to serve beneath your pure blood authority.”   
“Let’s make that two,” She piped, as she made her way back to her desk. Robin reached out, hitting my arm sharply. I bit my tongue, my muscles still sore from last night.   
“Stop it,” She hissed. “You’re just starting something for no reason,” Her tone was like a reprimand, and I recoiled from her hand.   
“She’s a bigot! What do you mean ‘no reason?’” I was appalled, and my temper made me speak a little louder than intended.   
A snicker sounded from behind me, and I didn’t have to turn to guess who it originated from.   
Malfoy. Of course.  
“AJ, please don’t do anything,” Robin pleaded, her eyes urgent once she realized I was getting up. “Just let it go! Can we please get through one fucking class without you making a scene?” Her words were like a slap across the face, and I couldn’t help my face falling.   
Suddenly, teasing Umbridge didn’t seem as much fun. I turned back in my seat, embarrassment quickly eating up my mischievousness. A hand tapped my shoulder hesitantly.   
“God. AJ, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-” I shrugged off Robin’s hand.   
“It’s fine. I get it.” I didn’t turn to look at her. I knew she was sorry, and I knew she didn’t mean it. Robin might not be as rigid as Paris, but she still didn’t like getting in trouble with teachers.   
I had pushed her too hard this time- I knew i could be a lot sometimes.   
She sighed behind me, opening up the new textbook that had appeared on our desks. Doing the same, I flipped through the first couple pages, the realization slowly dawning that even I would be able to perform most of the spells in here.   
“You’ve got to be joking,” I scoffed. “This isn’t even first year magic!” Umbridge looked confused, standing completely still from her place at the front of the classroom.   
“This is what the ministry has deemed fit for your education.” She replied simply.   
“There isn’t a single spell in here that could actually protect us from a bowtruckle, let alone dark magic.” The class murmured in agreement, but Umbridge only laughed.   
“I don’t understand what you children can imagine you need to protect yourselves from,” She paced along the desk. “The ministry and I agree that there is no need to arm students!” Another horribly innocent laugh echoed around the classroom.   
The anger boiling in my chest rose a little bit higher.   
“This is exactly the time to start arming students,” I spat. “After the tournament last year we need to learn how to protect ourselves from-”   
“From what, Ms. James?” Umbridge batted her eyes. My eyes narrowed, my temper sharpening into a red hot spike. I shot up out of my seat, unable to sit on the cool wood any longer.   
“You know exactly what, you daft cow! Voldemort! Death Eaters!” The classroom went dead silent, Umbridge’s expression turning slightly unhinged, her lips pursing and her eyes souring.   
“I will say this one time and one time only,” She hissed through clenched teeth. “The dark lord’s return..” She smiled, though it looked incredibly forceful, “Is. A. Lie.”   
“That’s ministry bullshit and you know it!”   
“Enough!” She screeched. “It will suit you well to learn how to hold your tongue!” With a flick of her wand, my mouth forced itself closed, and my body sat back into my chair against my will. I raged against the spell, trying to scream and kick and punch, but my limbs stayed locked at my side. Umbridge made her way to her desk, daintily sitting behind it. After a few seconds of stunned silence from the class, the spell released, and I sprung from my position, knocking my chair over with a crash.   
“Screw this fucking class,” I snarled, shaking the restrainment spell from my sore and mangled muscles. “And screw the wanker that teaches it.” I stuffed my books into my bag, with the exception of the new joke of a textbook, which I threw on the floor. Storming out, I focused the fiery anger crawling up my throat on that damned book.   
I slammed the door behind me just as it’s pages went up in flames.


	8. A Last Resort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected character comes to AJ for help.

Now with an impromptu free period, I decided to head back to the lake. Not many students liked to sit there once it started getting cold, but I always loved to imagine all the different things brewing just under the surface we couldn’t see, especially mermaids. It was always calm there.   
Making my way down to our shaded tree, I let the cool autumn air soothe the crackling heat of my skin left over from class. I shouldn’t have done it, I know that, and I know that I will probably have another sit down with Dumbledore where he spouts some mysterious and unhelpful shite then lets me off with a few detentions. Two days at the castle and two one on one sit downs. I’m pretty sure that’s a record for me. Cauldron save me, sometimes I just couldn’t help it.   
I plopped down on a rock, throwing off my robes and shaking out the clips in my hair, letting the crisp breeze blow it around my shoulders. I loosened my tie further and unbuttoned a few inches of my shirt, shoving off my knee highs and kicking off my boots, suddenly suffocatingly hot, despite the cold weather.   
My breath was still uneven, and my legs hurt like hell, but I pictured Umbridge’s face when she watched the door slam and the book light, her obnoxious little kitten heels prancing around the room in panic. I let out a laugh, dropping my head in my hands.   
Okay yeah. It was totally worth it.   
Sitting in silence, my mind wandered back to the conversation I had with Dumbledore.   
“Circumstances beyond my control will make me unable to protect you this year if you do not start picking your battles.” What the hell did that even mean? What could possibly be out of Dumbledore’s control?   
Laying on my back, I listened to the bubbling lake and stared at the clouds floating past in the sky, resolving that I’d ask Dumbledore when I was inevitably called back into his office. And this time I wouldn’t storm out until I had a clear answer.   
My eyes started to close, the previous night’s event urging me to grab a quick hour of sleep before my next class, when I heard leaves crunch behind me.   
I sat up immediately, whipping my wand in the sound’s direction, ready to strike, but nothing was there. Keeping my steps silent, I walked a wide perimeter around my spot, searching for any sign of the noise, reaching deep down into my magic and bringing a wildfire ready at my fingertips. No matter my injuries or my previous night, I was ready to roast some Death Eaters alive.   
After conducting a thorough search of the area around my tree and finding nothing, I returned back to my small nest of discarded clothing and books. This time, I stayed on my feet, now too wired to doze off.   
I resolved to spend the rest of my time in the common room, maybe getting ahead on some charms readings before transfiguration. Heading back up to the castle, I hoped the walk in the cool air would help calm my nerves, and soothe the searing pain from my battered legs.   
The spat with Robin had really set me on edge more than I had realized, especially combined with the intensity of the last episode and it’s lasting physical effects. My heart didn’t even stop beating rapidly until I was seated soundly on one of the common room’s couches.   
I grabbed my charms book, intent on reading several chapters in advance, but soon the dim ambiance and my creeping exhaustion quickly lulled me into the confines of sleep. 

When I awoke, I was curled in my own bed, tucked safely into newly cleaned sheets. Confused from sleep, my brain didn’t put the pieces together until I saw the bright pink post-it note stuck to my forehead with a message in Paris’ concise handwriting. 

"Moved you from the common room.  
You passed out, slept through dinner.  
Changed your clothes, washed your face, brushed your teeth,  
and changed your bandages. (I don’t want to know) No healing spells, I promise.  
Got your transfiguration and herbology notes.   
Be back later.  
\- Paris"

I sighed, flopping back onto the pillow. At this point, I owe my life to Paris eighteen million times over. Rolling over to my alarm clock (I don’t trust magic clocks), I saw it wasn’t even midnight, so I pulled the covers back up and snuggled back down into the blankets. It wasn’t often that I had the time and ability to really sleep, so I was taking advantage.   
Right as I had drifted back into sleep, a rapid knock sounded on Paris and I’s door. I shot out of bed, blood heating.   
Paris wouldn’t be knocking, and due to.. extraneous circumstances.. Paris and I are the only ones sharing this particular room. Despite the fact I was in a Hogwarts dormitory, I reached for my wand, shaking the sleep off and ignoring the protests from my damaged legs.  
Another flurry of knocks rapped on the door as I sidled flat against the side of it. I didn’t think Death Eaters would take the time to knock, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Robin would kill me if I got murdered by Death Eaters.   
In one swift motion, I unlatched the lock and swung the door open, bracing myself for combat.   
“James,” I blinked.   
“Malfoy?”


	9. Elixir of Eternal Twilight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AJ is faced with a decision- one where a life hangs in the balance.

“What the hell happened to you?” He looked incredibly disgruntled, his usually perfectly styled hair mussed and shaggy, his robes abandoned and his white undershirt covered with sweat and wrinkles.   
“I need your help,” He panted. He was breathing rather heavily, his chest rising and falling with such urgency I didn’t know what to say.   
“What?” I sputtered. “If this is some kind of joke, It’s not funny.”   
“It’s not a joke. Please, James. Please come with me.” I knew I shouldn’t have believed him, but his light eyes were filled with such panic and concern that even if he was acting, I wanted to see what prank he had pulled together.   
“Okay.” I didn’t know why I was going, but I pulled on my shoes and stuffed my wand in the waistband of my sleep-shorts, ignoring the fact it’s practically just a chopstick in my hands.   
Fuck. My pajamas.   
Malfoy’s gaze fell to the white cotton bandages wrapping my legs, much like the ones encasing my forearms and wrists. Even though Paris had just changed them, some spots had already started to turn pink from the blood underneath.   
That was almost more embarrassing than the much-to-tight band tee and skimpy shorts I was sporting.  
I snatched my bathrobe and slung it over my shoulders, it’s hem falling almost to my knees, covering up the majority of the injuries.   
“Not a word,” I snarled, slamming the door shut behind me.   
My voice seemed to snap Malfoy back to the present, his eyes regaining most of their previous urgency.   
“We have to go. Now.” Almost as if he meant to grab my wrist, his hand reached out for mine, but immediately returned to his side. He turned his back to me, hurrying down the girl’s dormitory steps at a pace I barely kept up with.   
These damn legs.   
If Malfoy noticed my struggling, he didn’t care. He kept us his relentless pace, near sprinting through the castle, until we arrived at a dusty old door I had never seen before.   
Rushing in, he ushered me through, disappearing into the room’s contents.   
“What the hell is this place?” Shelves upon shelves lined the walls, filled with all sorts of potion ingredients. Not easy to find ones, either. There were some ingredients wizards had killed for resting peacefully on their shelves, some covered in a thick layer of dust.   
“James! Hurry up!” I followed his voice, winding through the crowded space and only pocketing a few rare potion gems.   
“What the fuck?” Malfoy was kneeled next to a ratty old couch, his sleeves now rolled above his elbows, a wide variety of potion ingredients splayed and spilled around his nearly collapsed form.   
And on that couch, was an incredibly pale, shivering Goyle.   
Dying. Goyle was dying.   
“Holy shit,” I dropped next to the couch. “What the bloody hell did you do to him?”   
Malfoy’s eyes stayed trained on the floor, his fingers fiddling with the heavy pages of a potions book.   
At a loss for words, I turned my gaze onto the ingredients scattered around him, and a horrible picture began to form. Phoenix ash, mermaid blood, banshee tears..  
“You didn’t,” I gasped, turning back to Goyle. Sure enough, his lips were turning a dark purple, the tips of his nose and fingers starting to twinkle with frost.  
“Elixir of Eternal Twilight? Are you fucking kidding me?” Malfoy slammed his book shut, the concern in his eyes quickly turning to anger.   
First mysteriously wandering the forest at night, now this? He was absolutely unbelievable.   
“Can you brew the antidote or not?” I snatched the book out of his hand, flipping to the section of potions labeled ‘extremely, entirely dangerous.’ Reading over the antidote, I slowly realized it was going to be the hardest brew I’d ever made. I let out a frustrated growl.  
“Good lord, I am going to fucking strangle you.” Scrambling up from the floor, I started perusing the shelves to find the necessary ingredients.   
“I should’ve just gone to Snape and taken the expulsion.” He snapped. “And what are you looking for? I’ve already gotten all of the ingredients. You literally just need to follow the damn instructions.” I turned, grabbing an empty bottle off the shelf and hurling it at his face. He dodged, and it shattered on the wall behind him.   
“If you want me to bring your goon back from an eternity of darkness and despair, Malfoy, you need to at least pretend to have normal human emotions and shut the fuck up. I only have three hours before his state is irreversible.” Malfoy ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up awkwardly.   
“Actually.. you have an hour.” I set down a new round of ingredients, balling my hands into fists to keep them from launching another bottle into his nose.   
“You spent two hours trying to brew the antidote before asking me?” He grit his teeth.  
“Yes.”  
“But you’re terrible at potions! The only reason you pass is because you practically suck the farts out of Snape’s ass!” I said, trying to replace the need to cause him bodily harm with insults. It wasn’t working.  
Snarling, He sprang from the floor, backing me up against the nearest shelf. He braced his arms on either side of my head, though none of his body was actually touching my own.   
“Listen here, you foul-mouthed witch.” His eyes were frantic in a way I had never seen before. “You are going to save him, because I told you to. You are going to tell no one, and then you are going to return to your pathetic, miserable little life.” He leaned closer. “Or I swear to god, I will end you right fucking now.” Reaching over his shoulder to grab a stash of banshee tears, I bared my teeth in his face.  
“You listen, you rotten git. You do not get to order me around, regardless of your blood status. I am doing you a favor, and you damn well better appreciate it, because the only reason I’m not kicking your ass and stalking back to my dorm is because I don’t want that tosser’s blood on my hands.” I spat at his feet. “If it was you on that couch I’d let you rot in limbo for eternity, and not lose one fucking minute of sleep.” That was a bluff, but he didn’t have to know that.   
He backed away, turning back to the petrified Goyle. Unwilling to let go of the nerve I’d hit, I continued while I sat down near the cauldron on the musty floor.   
“You know, maybe you should think about why when someone you cared about was in trouble, you had to resort to asking someone who hates you for help.” Glancing over at the potion’s instructions, I emptied the mermaid blood, stirring seven times counterclockwise.   
He didn’t answer. Instead, he started rearranging the ingredients around me in the order they needed to be used.   
We sat in silence for several minutes. I tried to focus solely on the potion, on what needed to be added when, what incantation needed to be chanted and how many times, but my gaze kept drifting to Malfoy.  
I cursed myself as I added the banshee tears, once again second guessing my choice to stay and save this son of a bitch. Paris would kill me for staying. Robin would kill me if I left. Beau would ask me what Malfoy’s ass looked like out of his robes.   
I bit my knuckles, my teeth leaving curved dents in the bandages around them.  
I just couldn’t bring myself to leave, no matter how much he deserved it. I couldn’t let someone die if I could’ve done something about it.   
Malfoy had become increasingly restless, first on the floor next to Goyle, then monitoring the frost’s progress, then pacing through the room’s shelves, and finally hovering over my shoulder to monitor my progress. I gave him a death glare that would’ve cut glass, and he finally backed the hell off, scuffling back to a corner where a tarp was thrown over something bulky. Flicking his wand, the tarp gently folded itself back, revealing a small phonograph.   
Before I could ask what the hell he was doing, he had clicked his tongue, and a soft melody began to play.   
I was speechless.  
“Music? Seriously?” He didn’t face me, keeping his back turned as he returned pacing among the shelves.  
“Just shut up for once, will you? It always helps me focus. It might help you.” He ran his hands through his hair and down his face, but he still didn’t turn to me. “At this point, I’m willing to try anything if it means Goyle lives.” He mumbled, barely loud enough for me to hear.   
I didn’t think the comment was for me, but I responded anyways.   
“Fine.” I sighed. “You can keep the pretentious music if you stop talking.”   
Truth be told, I didn’t mind the music. It was a beautiful, simple lilting piano piece that reminded me of snow falling.  
Malfoy kept his word, not uttering a single syllable and letting me work, sometimes even handing me ingredients out of reach or fetching them from the shelves when I asked.   
Several minutes later, the brew had turned a bright silvery color, and the green bottle fly’s wing burned quickly as I dropped it in.   
It was ready.   
“Okay,” I exhaled, ladling exactly eight ounces into a small jar. “Make sure he drinks every drop.” Without hesitation, Malfoy scooped it out of my hand and poured it down Goyle’s throat, making sure to tip every bit in.   
“Either that will clear up his condition in about an hour, or accelerate the process and he’ll be dead in four minutes.” Malfoy sucked in a sharp breath.  
“If I lose a friend over your pride, muggleborn, I’ll make sure your life is over.” Hot anger bubbled up in my throat.   
“First of all, dickbreath,” I scoffed. “I saved your ass. I saved his ass.” I was exhausted, hopped up on adrenaline, and entirely, completely pissed. “YOU were the one who got your ass in this mess. YOU put him under that spell, though you refuse to tell me the exact details, and without me, you would have a corpse on that couch.” I was breathing heavily, my chest heaving as I curled my hands into fists at my sides so I wouldn’t lash out. “At least with my muggleborn pride, I gave your fucking minion a chance.” Gathering the supplies in my arms, I stormed around the room, practically throwing them back on the shelves.   
“I didn’t have to help you tonight, you know. I should get a fucking medal! And this is how you thank me? Insulting my blood status? You’re quite lucky I haven’t disemboweled you yet!” I knew this was the point that I should stop talking, but I just couldn’t get my mouth to close.   
“You have the audacity to propose that if your friend dies, it’s because my parents were muggle shitbags!” I stopped, turning back to face him. “Well, they weren’t shitbags for being muggles, but I rest my case! If you’re so superior, then it should’ve been impossible for you to fail and need me at all, wouldn’t it? But news flash pretty boy, there isn’t a wizard jesus that blesses purebloods and damns muggle borns!”  
“Who’s jesus?” He asked. I threw a musty book at him. Unfortunately, he dodged it.  
“Not the fucking point! Merlin, you are infuriating!” Malfoy stared at the crumpled book I tossed.   
“You do love throwing things at me, don’t you James?” I searched for more things to chuck at him, but there was a groan from the couch.   
Immediately dropping the argument, we both knelt by him. I checked his temperature, making sure it was rising back to average levels, his lips and his fingertips, which were both slowly becoming normal again. Even his pulse was heartier, though it was still thready. I blew out a long breath through my nose, and wiped sweat off my face.   
“He’s going to be fine. Bed ridden for a week, but alive. You can try a few healing spells, but that’s beyond the extent of my abilities.” I collapsed next to the couch, relief chasing away the adrenaline and making my hands shake. During the whole ordeal, I had forgotten about my previous injuries. They must’ve been more extensive than I realized, and now that the imminent danger had faded, the pain began to crawl back up my legs and my spine. I couldn’t even enjoy the fact I had just successfully brewed one of the hardest potions known in the wizarding world, the burning spindles of pain made me bite my knuckles to keep conscious.   
I wouldn’t faint in front of Malfoy. Quite literally, I’d rather fucking die.   
He was murmuring a few simple healing incantations, so I glanced under my robe ever so slightly to see if I had pulled my stitches. I cursed softly.  
A patch of blood had seeped through the layers of bandage onto my robe. I had definitely done something. I debated sprinting back to my room, but I really needed to stay close to Goyle. If something went wrong, I didn’t trust Malfoy to be able to brew something accurate.   
Attempting to distract myself, I turned my sights on Malfoy.   
He looked simultaneously the most horrible and the best I’d ever seen him. I tilted my head.   
No, better wasn’t the right word. Real.   
Collar unbuttoned, tie gone, shirt untucked, hair unruly, bags under his eyes.. he looked nothing like the spiteful, glossy haired barbie that terrorized me in DADA just hours earlier. I almost believed the concern behind his eyes. Almost.   
Before I could stop myself, I had opened my mouth.   
“Why the hell were you brewing the elixir of eternal twilight in the first place?” My gaze fell back to the unconscious Goyle. “And how did it end up in his stomach?”   
He huffed, sitting back on his heels. His eyes slowly made their way to mine.   
“He wasn’t even supposed to be here.” For some reason, I believed him. I motioned for him to continue.   
“I was just brewing this for.. fun, I guess.” Now that I didn’t believe, but he didn’t stop there.   
“He just didn’t know what it was, that’s all. He knew I was in here, but I had left to grab something from my room.” He sat down against the couch. “When I got back, he was like that.”  
I gawked.   
“He’s really that dense to drink an unidentified substance from a student’s cauldron?” Malfoy let out a short, surprised laugh.   
“Oh, you have no idea.” We both fell silent, him probably mulling over the past few hours’ events while I struggled to stay conscious.   
“Why were you really brewing it? You lied before.” My brain was mushy from the pain, and I was too curious not to ask. His eyes narrowed as I slumped further against the couch, exhaling a long breath through my nose. I desperately wanted to ask about the forest, but that was most definitely off the table.   
“What’s wrong with you?” Avoiding my question.   
“Nothing,” I ground out, my hand on my sides. I needed to get back to my dorm. Hopefully, Paris wouldn’t be back yet and I could patch myself back up.   
Biting my cheek so I wouldn’t cry out, I hoisted myself up from the couch, keeping one hand on it’s arm for balance.   
“Right. Now that I’ve saved your ass and you’ve insulted me in pretty much every possible way, I’ll be going.” Turning, I grabbed a hold of the nearest shelf to keep me upwards as I made my way through the maze back to the hallway.   
“You don’t seem like you’re in any shape to be going anywhere,” He called after me.   
“Fuck off!” Was all I said in reply, already halfway to the door despite my strength.   
He didn’t come after me, which I guess was a small relief.   
It must’ve been a quarter past one, and the castle was quiet in a way I had never seen before. Paintings dozed on the wall, their soft snores echoing my labored breaths, my sneakers squeaking against the floors.   
I made sure to keep to hallways that prefects and teachers wouldn’t patrol, taking several side ways and shortcuts, eager to be in bed, but more eager not to get caught.   
Finally, I was back in the common room, stumbling down the stairs into the girl’s corridor.   
I nearly wept in relief by the time I made it to my door, barging through to find it still unoccupied.   
Collapsing immediately into my bed, I hoped Paris would wake me before breakfast tomorrow.


	10. A Dream, Or Memory?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AJ is afflicted with a memory from her past.

The wardrobe rattled, whatever it was contained inside it crying and clawing to get out.   
“Don’t worry,” Professor Lupin assured our class. “It won’t get out until I will it.” Paris bumped my shoulder, eyes alight with curiosity.   
“You in there?”   
“Yeah, sorry.” I shook my head. “Spaced out for a bit.” Their brows creased, but I turned my attention back to Lupin.   
I had found I quite liked Professor Lupin. He was quite different from our teacher last year, and seemed kind, if not sad. He always seemed to give me a bit more room after my episodes than other teachers- even though I knew I must be imagining it.   
The thing in the wardrobe was a boggart, he explained. A creature that would transform into our deepest fears.   
Paris blanched.   
“He can’t possibly expect us to face that thing in front of everyone,” They hissed. I only shrugged, absentmindedly repeating the spell Lupin wanted us to use. I wasn’t really paying attention. The episode last night hadn’t been horrible, but it lasted longer than normal. I hadn’t gotten a minute of sleep, and my mind was foggy with tiredness.   
We were all made to line up, each given a turn to transform the boggart. The first person who went was a ravenclaw girl. The boggart spun into a huge moth, its wings beating, blowing my hair away from my face.   
The girl shook, but held up her wand. “Ridikulus!” She cried, and the moth warped again, bright green pool noodles appearing over it’s furry antennas, and sunglasses over it’s buggy eyes.   
The class laughed as it bungled around the classroom, knocking into various books and desks.   
The next, a gryffindor boy who’s was a hissing snake, which turned into a plate of spaghetti.   
Several other students went, each juvenile fear turning into something increasingly humorous, but eventually, it was my turn.  
I didn’t know what to expect as the boggart spun, it’s transformation seemingly taking longer for me than the other students, as if considering all of it’s options.   
I yawned, unable to stop myself, but opened my eyes when the class gasped.   
I blinked, unsure of what I was seeing, when blonde hair and green robes came into focus.   
All thoughts of the counter spell eddied out of my head.   
The girl staring back at me had the same sharp angle of my nose, the same mischievous slant of my mouth, and the same intense gray stare. She even had the scar through my left eyebrow from a second-year episode.   
I was staring at a perfect reflection of myself, with one exception. This version of me clutched a smoldering stuffed bear, it’s fur matted with age, and limbs charred from flames. I watched myself as boggart-me smiled, letting fire consume the bear entirely. 

I woke with a start, the third year memory jolting me out of sleep. Paris started where they stood at their vanity, their usual neon eyeliner only halfway finished. Today it was purple, with blue hearts on their cheeks.   
“Good morning?” I rubbed my eyes, hoping Paris wouldn’t see my hands trembling or the sweat collected around my collar.   
“What time is it?” My voice was hoarse from sleep. Paris checked their watch.  
“A quarter to six.” I groaned, flopping back on my pillows.   
“Too early.” Paris smiled softly, turning back to their mirror.   
“If you get up and get dressed soon, we might even be on time for breakfast.”   
“You suck.” I grumbled. “I don’t tell you that enough.”   
“Oh I know,” They mocked. “I’m terribly wicked for suggesting we go eat breakfast at a reasonable hour.”  
“Reasonable? Good heavens, Paris! The owls are barely even up!” They fanned their face, their final stroke of eyeliner drying.   
“Come on, up you go. If you’re up you might as well be useful.” Pulling the thin sheet from my legs, they ignored my screech of protest.   
“You belong in azkaban.”   
“And don’t I know it.”   
We fell into a comfortable silence, enjoying the rhythm of having each other around while we prepared for the day.   
“Want me to go over the notes I took for you after classes today?” I shook my head, lacing up my boots.   
“Can’t. Have detention with Umbridge.”   
“Right. Robin informed me of your escapades in class.” I couldn’t help but smile.   
“Yeah. I bet I’ll be shackled to that hag until I graduate for setting that book on fire.”  
“You set a book on fire?”   
“Yeah! You said Robin told you!”   
“She said you stormed out, she never said you committed arson!”  
“It wasn’t really arson,” I sighed. “Just one book.” Paris threw up their hands.   
“I can’t believe we have to make that distinction.” Grinning, I snatched my robes from the floor.  
“Come on, weren’t you the one begging to make it to breakfast already?” They glared, but slung their bag over their shoulder.   
“I doubt Robin or Beau will be up this early, so we can go over those notes if you want.”  
“Sure,” I grabbed their hand, stopping in the doorway.   
“Thank you for last night, Paris. I really think I’d be dead in a ditch without you.” Paris gave my hand a light squeeze.   
“You most definitely would be dead by now.” They paused. “But that would suck.”   
“Aw,” I crooned. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” They shoved through the door, rolling their eyes.  
“Shut up, James.”


	11. Toad Hags Will Get What They Deserve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AJ faces her first detention with Umbridge.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” I nodded, knocking Robin’s shoulder with my own. We both stood in front of Umbridge’s office door, the obnoxiously pink trim surprisingly sinister.   
“Come on, I’ll be fine. I can handle the devil in pink for an hour by myself.” She looked uneasy.  
“Look, Robin, if you stay one more minute you could be late for your date. Go!” Robin’s cheeks flushed, her eyes going wide.   
“Arabella James! It’s not a date!” I laughed, rolling my eyes.   
“George asked you, a fifth year, to help him with his homework.”  
“So?”  
“So! Not only am I certain George has never done a single piece of homework in his life, whatever he would be working on is definitely beyond a fifth year.”   
“If he wanted to ask me out, he would’ve asked me to Hogsmeade, not the library.”  
“Oh, I’m certain that a Hogsmeade offer is not far behind. But only as long as you wear that new lipstick you got to this date.”   
“I’m walking away now.”  
“Have fun! Don’t get pregnant!”  
Before Robin could send a hex my way, the door behind me opened.   
“Umbridge.” I spat.   
“Ms. James. You’re late.”  
“Oh, drat. How unfortunate.” Her toad eyes narrowed, moving from the doorway and back behind her desk.   
If the pink decor on the door was offensive, her actual office was a downright assault.  
Frilly lace adorned every inch in sight, and each wall was spelled a horrendous shade of pink. One wall even had plates hung up, each with a sickeningly sweet kitten painted on its surface.   
It took everything in me not to vomit all over her pink velvet rug.   
Umrbidge flicked her wand, and a small writing desk equipped with parchment and a quill appeared next to hers.   
“Sit,” She ordered. And I did, hesitant to believe I’d just be doing lines.   
“You will be writing ‘Disrespect will not be tolerated.’” I ground my teeth at the phrase.   
“How many times?” Her stupid little spoon dinged on the side of her stupid little teacup as she stirred in her sugar cubes.   
“Until I say so, Ms. James.”   
“Fine,” I spat. This wouldn’t be the worst detention I ever served. One time in fourth year, Snape had me clean all of the N.E.W.T. level potion’s class cauldrons. I smelled like a corpse for a month.   
The quill was fancier than I was used to, but then again, most quills are fancier than I’m used to, so I didn’t think much of the raven feather or the blood red tip.   
“Is there any ink?”  
“You won’t need any.” I rolled my eyes. Self-writing quill, then.   
I began to write on the first piece of parchment, and the first two lines went as all lines did.   
But at the third, the back of my left hand began to itch terribly.   
By the fifth, it outright burned.   
I hissed through my teeth, squinting at the skin which had become raised and irritated.   
“Something wrong?” Umbridge’s voice floated up from her desk. I only glared at her in response.   
I started the next sentence, watching in horror as the letters I wrote appeared both on my parchment, and in angry red lines on my skin, getting deeper and deeper with every line.   
Fine, I thought. If she wants to play hard ball, let’s play.   
Checking to make sure Umbridge was busy at her desk, I switched to the next piece of parchment. I grit my teeth through the pain, and began writing a sentence of my own.   
Toad hags will get what they deserve.   
Over, and over, and over again. If I was going to have words carved into my skin, I’d choose what they’d be.   
I assumed about an hour later, she cleared her throat, signaling for me to stop.   
“I hope you will find this detention valuable, Ms. James.”   
“Absolutely. It quite cleared things up.” She smiled.  
“Good. I will see you tomorrow.”  
Quickly exiting the room, I had almost made my way halfway down the spiraling stairs before I heard Umbridge’s outraged cry.   
I skipped down the rest of the way, barely even noticing the searing words forever imprinted on my skin. 

That night at dinner, Robin looked downright murderous when I showed her my new detention scar. I had to physically restrain her from marching up to Dumbledore right then and there. Even Beau had paled at the angry red words.   
“You can’t just let her get away with this!” She cried. Paris, though less animated, nodded in agreement.   
“AJ, that’s abuse. You have to report it.”  
“No!” I exclaimed. “I won’t give her the satisfaction of watching me run to Dumbledore after her first move.”   
“AJ, you’ve got to be joking.” Robin pleaded. “This isn’t Malfoy putting red dye in your shampoo third year, this is a teacher taking advantage of her authority.”   
“I can deal with it myself,” I growled. “Dumbledore doesn’t need to fix all my problems.”   
“You are absolutely impossible!”   
“Let the woman do as she pleases, little bird.” Beau interjected, with a wink at me. “I’m here to help if you need any aid in your next move.”  
“See?” I tossed my fork on my plate. “Now that’s what I call friendship.” I high-fived him in support.   
Robin was still seething, her freckled cheeks flushed with anger.   
“Please, Robin.” I folded her hand in mine. “Let me handle this, at least for now.” Her amber eyes faltered. I knew she would relent if I asked her directly.   
“I don’t like this, AJ.”   
“I know you don’t. But we have much more interesting things to talk about, right?”   
“We do?”   
“Something about.. a library date?” Robin smacked my hand in protest, but Beau had already sat up straight.   
“Did our resident ginger finally get the guts to ask out the Weasley twin?”  
“It. Was. Not. A. Date.” I turned to Beau, ignoring Robin’s refusal.  
“He asked her to help him with his homework.” He laughed, clapping his hands over his mouth.  
“It’s finally happening!” Beau jumped over the table, landing soundly next to Robin.   
“You must tell me everything. Did he ask you to Hogsmeade? What did you talk about? Oh Merlin this is so exciting!” Robin’s smile was hesitant, but eventually it broke into a full grin.  
“We didn’t actually work on homework,” She admitted. Beau squealed, but Paris rolled their eyes.   
“And no, he didn’t ask me to Hogsmeade. At first we just hung out in the library, and he told me all about the snackboxes him and Fred have made. It’s supposed to be real clever magic!”   
“I can’t imagine what that’ll mean for us trying to actually get an education here,” Paris groaned, but Beau fervently shushed them, motioning for Robin to continue.   
“Eventually we just made our way around the castle,” She flushed. “Honestly, it wasn’t much different than when we hang out with everyone around.”   
Beau’s smile was more radiant than hers.   
“Young love!” He proclaimed. “Oh, how wonderful! The budding of a new romance!” Robin couldn’t help but match his excitement.   
“You think so?”  
“It’s pretty obvious, Robin.” I added.  
“The scoundrel and the prefect. This is beautiful!”   
“We have to start picking out an outfit for Hogsmeade now,” I suggested.   
“Guys, he hasn’t even asked me yet!” Robin laughed.  
“He will!” Beau and I said in unison.   
“Come on, you three.” Paris chastised. “The house elves are starting to clean up.”   
Gathering our plates, we made our ways back to our dorms, all of us considerably lighter than before.


	12. A Daring Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AJ and Robin are invited to a dangerous meeting.

“AJ!” Robin hissed, her books nearly toppling off the table as she spun into the library.   
“You'll never guess what just happened.” I closed my charms textbook, curious about the excitement and nervousness in her eyes.   
“What is it?”   
“Well, you must know you aren’t the only one who’s giving Umbridge a hard time,” She started, and I nodded. I’d heard the whisperings of other people’s outbursts- especially Harry’s. Not everyone was content with letting that witch spread the ministry’s lies. Robin hunkered down, her voice dropping even quieter.   
“Harry’s gonna do something about it.” My heartbeat quickened.   
“What’dya mean?” Her voice was barely more than a breath now.  
“There’s gonna be a meeting, one at Hogsmeade. One for students who actually want to learn how to defend themselves under Harry’s teachings!” I couldn’t help the smile that crossed my face, or the excitement building in my stomach.   
“That’s bloody brilliant!” Robin shushed me, glancing around the library.   
“Keep your voice down! This is top. Secret.”   
“How in the world did you hear about this?” She blushed.   
“A certain twin might’ve given me the heads up.” I laughed. Of course. “He thought we were just the kind of people who’d be up for it.” I grinned. “Especially you, he said. Word’s gotten around about your detention.” Good.   
“Have you told Paris or Beau?”   
“Do you think I should?” I began to question how she could even ask that, then hesitated. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how Paris would react to a band of students going rouge. Beau would probably love the adventure and drama, but he wasn’t the most close-lipped.   
I felt awful for hesitating, but maybe keeping this to ourselves would be the safe bet, just until Robin and I felt out the group.   
She saw my hesitation, and nodded sadly in silent agreement.   
“Paris might disapprove, and Beau might get too excited,” I explained. Robin bit her lip.  
“I hate keeping secrets.” I knew she did, but this one was necessary.  
“It’s just for a little while.” Even so, I knew it would eat at her.   
“But come on,” I couldn’t stop grinning like a kid. “This is going to be brilliant. I can feel it!”


End file.
